A Falconer's Fate
by TimeyWimeyNate
Summary: Mason gave up as a Falconer long ago, but the fate of his world may depend on wether he can take up the mantle of Falconer once more.
1. Prologue

**The Prophecy of Falcons**

_When the Dragons rule the skies_

_and the Earth is scorched in flame_

_look to the mountains of Niër;_

_a Falconer's fate is foretold._

_One in one hundred_

_out of all the Falconers. _

_One will save the day;_

_a Falconer's fate is foretold._

_When Alcrêa is overthrown_

_and the Giants walk the Earth_

_look to the mountains of Niër;_

_a Falconer's fate is foretold._

Mason silently crept through the forest, his bow half drawn. The leather boots he wore made no sound on the grass underfoot. He was protected from the cold by a fur cloak, though it was not cold on that day. There was only a gentle breeze.

His ears picked up a soft sound. He slowly turned his bearded head to see his target: a cow grazed on the grass in a small clearing. Mentally, he apologized for having to kill the gentle creature. He slowly drew his bow, moved it slightly, and released the bowstring. The cow didn't know what had hit it; the arrow struck its heart, killing it instantly. It fell to the ground with a thud, and Mason pulled out his iron sword. He quickly skinned the cow and took its leather, and then cut out as much meat as he could, putting it into his hunting bag. He then dug a small hole and buried the dead animal. In his eyes, it was unacceptable to leave an animal who gave its life for him out in the open to be eaten by wolves. He silently thanked the cow for its meat, and then stood and left the clearing.

The sun was setting by the time Mason reached his house. It was a simple log cabin built in the center of a large clearing. A small stream ran by it, uncrossed by any bridges. Mason pushed open the door to his home and walked in as the door swung shut behind him. He threw the meat in his furnace, where it began to cook immediately. Coal was always kept ready in it. He stored the leather in his double chest and hopped into bed.


	2. Encounter

**-Two Months Later-**

Mason slowly walked down a beaten gravel path, lost in thought. That day was a special day, but not a cause for celebration. Five years ago, to the day, his mentor Fjord had died. He was buried in a village not far from the forest that Mason called home.

He unconsciously pulled his cloak tighter around him. It was unseasonably cold, as if it were late winter instead of early autumn. He heard a wolf howl in the distance. He quickened his pace, not out of fear, nor nervousness, but because he didn't want to be in the cold. And so he walked in this manner all the way to the village.

A young man dressed in simple brown robes bumped into Mason as he walked into town. The villager stumbled and muttered, "Sorry." Mason grunted indignantly. He did not want to be bothered.

He walked down the main road without any further trouble. He turned left at the second intersection he met, onto a long road that led to a hill outside of the village. The state of the path got progressively worse as he walked further down the road. It started as cobblestone, gradually turned into gravel, and then eventually became a dirt road.

Mason finally reached the graveyard itself, situated on top of the hill. A cobblestone wall surrounded the small cemetery, with an opening 2 blocks by 2 blocks in size, created by a simple cobblestone archway. Mason walked past several rows of stone markers before finally stopping at the last one. This last row contained only two graves; one for his mother and the other for Fjord. He had buried them both himself, and out of respect and fear for him the villagers left that row alone. Mason stood between the two graves, hands clenched behind his back, head bowed. Above him, he sky darkened. He felt a drop of rain hit his shoulder, then another, and another. Soon it was raining heavenly. In a matter of minutes his cloak was thoroughly soaked, but still he stood, remembering the two people that mattered most to him in life. He had never known his father, who had been killed in a battle before Mason was born. He had never found love, never married, never sat by the fire with a family he had built. And now he was alone.

Hours later, Mason was shivering from the cold. The rain was still pouring unrelentingly, and he registered in the back of his mind that he'd die of hypothermia if he stayed out in the rain much longer. And so he turned and walked from the graveyard, his feet splashing in pools of water with every other step. He tried to gather the energy to run, but he was too exhausted from the cold to even jog. He reflected that this was not one of his best ideas.

Eventually he reached the village, ready to collapse. He turned and knocked on the first door he saw. As luck would have it, it was the door to Katrina's house, an old friend. She peaked through the window to see who it was, and then opened the door to invite him in. Mason fell into her arms.

Mason awoke with a start. He whipped his gaze around, taking in his surroundings. He was sitting in a chair by a fireplace, wrapped in blankets. A glass of warm tea was on a table to his right.

"You're awake." Mason recognized the voice.

"Katrina. How long have I been asleep?"

"Seven hours."

Mason grunted.

"You still don't talk much, eh?"

Mason grunted again.

"No matter. Anyways, I heard that the Balkalôr have been sighted in Creätién, the citadel in the East."

Mason snorted in disbelief and stood from his chair. He mumbled something that sounded like "Thank you" and stepped outside, ignoring Katrina's warning that it was still raining. He pulled his cloak tighter around himself and trudged back to his home.

Mason was nearly to his house when he heard the faint sound of clanking bones. He dived to the side just in time to avoid the skeleton's arrow. He cursed under his breath. He had neglected to bring his weapons, for these were peaceful times and he hadn't thought he would need them. He leaped to his feet and sprinted forward as another arrow slammed into a tree behind him. He heard the clanking of bones as the undead archer moved to follow him. He heard an almost imperceptible whizz and slid to the ground to avoid another arrow. He got back up and burst into the familiar clearing, charging towards his house. He barreled through the door after shouldering it open as an arrow embedded itself into th side of his house. He grabbed his bow and quiver, drew back an arrow, and released right as the skeleton shot again. Mason's arrow flew true and struck the assailant down as the skeleton's own arrow barely missed Mason's knee. He dropped his bow and quiver and fell gratefully into bed.


End file.
